


Of Bedtimes

by dead_bird_equation



Series: There's a Reason They're Called Sleepy Bois [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Eh Compliant, Gen, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Phil Watson is Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit's Parent, Platonic Cuddling, Pre-Canon, Pre-Dream SMP, Sleepy Bois Inc Fluff, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, tommyinnit is a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 09:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30086982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dead_bird_equation/pseuds/dead_bird_equation
Summary: Wilbur gets home late one night and all he wants to do is go to sleep. Unfortunately, the other members of his household can’t handle Tommy Innit’s inexhaustible energy.Or Wilbur is the only one who can actually get Tommy to go to bed.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: There's a Reason They're Called Sleepy Bois [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2213790
Comments: 17
Kudos: 507





	Of Bedtimes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is the first ever work I've posted publicly and I'm very self conscious about it so please, please be gentle with me. I'm really nervous/excited to share my work with you and I hope you enjoy it!

Wilbur enters the dark house quietly, hands dusty with blaze powder and empty potion bottles clinking together in the bag on his shoulder. He stretches and rubs his eye with the heel of his hand, dumping the bag unceremoniously on the table. He briefly considers setting up his brewing stands so they were ready in the morning but ultimately decides he would rather collapse into bed instead. As he makes his way up the stairs to the bedrooms the only sound is the deep rumble of Techno’s snores and if you listened really closely, the occasional softer one from Phil. _Good,_ Wilbur smiles to himself, _they must have gotten Tommy to sleep by themselves then._

Except... Wilbur’s brow furrows as he crests the top of the stairs. A thin shaft of light shines from the slightly ajar door of Tommy’s bedroom. And the snoring is clearly coming from in there instead of the room Wilbur and his twin shared down the hall. Curiously, Wilbur pokes his head in the room, lit dimly but warmly by the oil burning lamp on the dresser by the door. Three year old Tommy Innit sits on the woven rug in the middle of what looks like a city street of building blocks and discarded stuffed animals, little fist around a thick blue marker, fingers already marked by various other colored inks. He grins up at Wilbur with a smile almost too big for his face.

Phil is passed out in one of Tommy’s play chairs in the corner, head tipped back and drooling in the exhausted sleep of a man who has a toddler. He’s leaning so far back in the little chair that it’s frankly a miracle he hasn’t fallen to the floor. His wings and the wall behind him are the only things keeping him from falling as the chair precariously balances on two legs.

The great warrior Technoblade is a heap at Phil’s feet, looking not unlike a felled giant among the skyscrapers of Tommy’s building blocks. His head pillowed uncomfortably on a stack of picture books with his golden circlet sitting crooked on his head. 

“Wilby!” Tommy exclaims happily, as Wilbur steps fully into the room carefully avoiding tripping over any toys in his way. He has to bite his lip to keep from laughing when the others don’t so much as stir. 

“Having fun, Toms?” Wilbur asks amused, surveying the rest of the room. Toys and blocks are piled up in nearly every corner. Stuffed animals are lined up to do battle on one side of the bed and several of the teacups from Tommy’s tea party set are scattered on the floor under and around the little table in the corner and Phil’s chair. The only thing untouched in the room is Tommy’s bed, which he should have been tucked in to over an hour ago. 

The little boy nods, which is a motion that apparently requires his full body. “Dada and The Blade said I could play until I got sleepy, but they got sleepy first,” he says enthusiastically. Wilbur can’t help but fondly roll his eyes. Trying to outlast Tommy Innit is a fruitless endeavor, especially for Phil and Techno who didn’t get enough sleep as it is. “So I’ve been coloring,” Tommy continues, “making The Blade look pretty.” He gestures with both his hands towards the man on the floor behind him, pride shining in his eyes.

Wilbur notes the red, blue, and black squiggles covering Techno’s face as the pig man lets out another gargantuan snore. “Very pretty,” Wilbur agrees as seriously as he can manage. Wilbur supposes he should be mad, but, he nearly chokes holding back a laugh, this is just too funny and the little boy coloring one of Techno’s floppy ears blue with the dedication of a master artist is just too cute. 

Wilbur kneels down beside Tommy, picking up the uncapped black marker. He eyes his father carefully, watching as the man in the tiny chair tips a little bit farther towards disaster. So far Phil had avoided Tommy’s “beautification” since he was up too high for the toddler to reach, but... “Should I give Phil a mustache?” Wilbur asks with a smirk, twiddling the marker around his fingers. Tommy’s eyes widen to milk saucers as he gasps with unbridled delight, “yesssssssss!” 

“Alright, Tommy Innit,” Wilbur says scooping the boy up into his arms once Phil’s face had been sufficiently doodled on complete with a large curly mustache, “you’re sleeping with me tonight.”

“Yay!” Tommy exclaims as if it wasn’t a common occurrence for the little boy to sneak out of his own bed and into Wilbur’s anyway. 

Wilbur totes the unlimited source of energy into his own bedroom before upending the boy onto the mattress. Tommy giggles as he lands on the bed with a soft thump. “Get comfy,” Wilbur tells him before moving to get ready for bed himself. By the time Wilbur is ready Tommy has burrowed himself under the covers, hair, eyes, and nose just barely poking out of the top of the quilt. Wilbur chuckles as he grabs his guitar from its stand by the bedside. 

He fiddles with the B string a moment before asking, “Short song or long song tonight?” Wilbur already knows the answer, Tommy has never asked for a short song in his life.

“Long song!” Tommy says, forcing the words out through a yawn. He wraps his little fingers around the edge of the quilt, “Two,” he adds sleepily.

“Two!?” Wilbur echoes in mock disbelief, “we’ll see about that.” Wilbur starts strumming the notes to a familiar lullaby, one Phil had sung to both of them on many occasions. As he expects, he doesn’t even make it to the second verse before Tommy is asleep, one of his marker stained knuckles in his mouth. 

Wilbur lets the notes completely die out before shaking his head and running his fingers though Tommy’s baby ringlets. With a fond sigh, Wilbur places the guitar back on the stand, turns the lights off, and climbs into bed. Just as he closes his eyes there is a thud and a muffled curse as Philza loses his battle with gravity in the other room. Wilbur laughs and Tommy’s face scrunches up from the noise before falling slack again. 

Wilbur curls lightly around Tommy, pressing his nose into his baby brother’s soft blond curls. “Goodnight Toms, I love you,” he whispers. Wilbur drifts off to sleep, an amused smile on his face as he imagines Phil and Techno getting a good look at their faces in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Man, I can't believe I actually posted something I wrote to the internet!
> 
> If you guys have any other SBI stuff you want to see written, fluff, angst, whatever, feel free to send an ask or DM @the-lore-project on Tumblr. I would love to try my hand at writing some requests! I can't promise they'll be any good but I'll try! 
> 
> (I have to get more comfortable sharing my work for a big project that may or may not be coming up, wink wink.)


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